


Scars

by amuk



Category: Bleach
Genre: Betrayal, Community: 31_days, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 07:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all wounds are skin-deep. Some still remain, when all traces are gone and memories fade to dust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> So, I attempt to make a HitsuHina fic, and it ends up like this. D: At least it still retains the characters/feelings I had...>.> Re-reading this makes me sad. D: So rushed. 
> 
>  
> 
> Day/Theme: Dec 7 // the cancer of your affection

She recovers, physically, as expected. The red stains on her chest, the purple and black flowers on her skin, all gone. If anything is left to mark what happened, it is a single imaginary scar running down her chest, the bloodied clothes he keeps seeing when he pants, exhausted.  
  
Hinamori is up and running about a month after the incident. He sees her in the corridors a day after.  
  
She's walking, papers carefully stacked in her arms. Paperwork long left undone during her...quiet insanity. Her left arms shifts slightly and she gives him a smile as he walks by and--  
  
Hitsugaya knows immediately that they are some wounds that haven't healed.

  
-x-

He still, occasionally, dreams of it. Her broken and bloodied body in his arms, the soft, dying whisper of his name, the blank look in her eyes.  
  
There were so many other ways that moment could have gone. He could have used a stronger, more powerful attack. They all could have rushed at her again and again.  
  
She could have died and disappeared, as elusive and fleeting as the snow they played in.   
  
And he wouldn't have been able to do anything about it.

  
-x-

(--anditwouldhavebeenallhisfault.)

-x-

The mental changes he notices a week later. It takes longer, because she stays holed up in her office (where, in the past, she'd peek past his door and frown at his papers, at his tendencies). It's only when she's depositing her completed forms that they cross paths again.  
  
"Hinamori," he starts, raising an eyebrow at the constantly tilting motion she makes. Her papers sway and she tries to look around them as she replies.  
  
"Hitsugaya-kun." A smile. Then, almost immediately, a blank look crosses her face, and before he can retaliate, she corrects herself. "Hitsugaya-taichou. I'm supposed to call you that, aren't I?"  
  
It's strange. It's not that he doesn't want it, but...to get it this easily...He's been trying to get her to call him that for decades, almost giving up several times.  
   
A feeling of unease rises.   
  
"I see you've finally remembered." Of course he doesn't let it show. Not until he figures out what's happening. "At least your brain is growing, since your body isn't."  
  
"..." She doesn't respond, not at first, and then gives a soft sigh. "I'm learning." With a quiet wave, she disappears around the corner.  
  
The feeling of unease grows.

-x-

  
There are no words to describe their relationship. Merely, it is one based off annoying advice and watermelon sunsets and quiet nights where he could hear her and Granny breathing across the room.   
  
There isn't much else to add to that, to those years of teasing and soft smiles and eager races. Her hand reaching for his when the night was too dark, the gentle covering of a blanket when she thought he wasn't awake.  
  
It is a relationship built over years and a single desire: to protect Hinamori.  
  
He knows he's failed that already.

  
-x-

"Taichou...." Rangiku starts and he knows that whatever she's about to say is going to irk him. "We should--"  
  
"No."  
  
She stops, adjusting her position so she can stare at him comfortably. "But you didn't even hear--"  
  
"Did you finish your report?" His eyes flicked to her prone figure, breasts bursting out of her uniform as usual. At least she isn't holding a bottle this time.   
  
Only, that is probably the reason she's asking for anything in the first place.  
  
She mutters something about a grumpy face and he promptly tells her to start working.  
  
There have been less incidents lately, though, he notices. Not as much finding her passed out in the room nor even worse, not finding her in the room at all.  
  
(She had a sad, almost resigned smile, when she informed him of Gin's death.)  
  
It will take some time before they can close this chapter of their lives.

-x-

  
He hears it from Abrai and Kira first, as they pass his door.   
  
"She's been working too much," Kira starts, a morose look on his face. His fingers clench slightly as he speaks, the shadows on his face darker with guilt. "Either she's holed up in her office or she's out in the field training."  
  
"They still haven't found a captain yet?" Abrai's voice is loud, as usual, and the look of disbelief he carries is well-deserved. It shouldn't be taking this long.  
  
"To be exact, no one really wants to position yet. It feels kind of...cursed." The last part is whispered.  
  
Contrary to custom, Hinamori didn't become the next captain of her squad. It might have had to do with that slightly mad manner she carried herself with after Aizen's betrayal. Or the way she avoided fighting, flinching away from the opposing sword.  
  
Or maybe it was a hanging uncertainty that she might repeat _his_ mistakes, that she might one day snap from the pressure and destroy everything in sight.  
  
It's amazing she still retained her position after all that.  
  
Either way, Hitsugaya can't deny he wouldn't approve of a promotion, of sending her out on more and more dangerous missions.  
  
"That's stupid." Abrai retorts. "Beyond stupid. As for Hinamori, we should get Rangiku to throw on of her parties. She'd go, relax, take a break."  
  
Their voices, fading by now, disappear.  
  
"Tch, talking so loud," he grumbles as he carefully rolls up the document.

  
-x-

"You've been training hard," he comments idly.  
  
She doesn't jump up and shriek, as expected. Instead, her body freezes, her breathing shallowing, before she recovers and turns to face him.   
  
"Why are you always so appear like that?" An exasperated grin to match her tone, and if he only looked at the mask he would believe her words.  
  
He knows better by now.  
  
(And she isn't supposed to flinch like that, not when he appears, especially when he appears.   
  
Only, he can still feel himself pushing that blade in deeper, ice cutting through tender flesh, and she has every right to back away. Especially when he appears.)  
  
"I've been practicing," she explains when he gives her a blank look. "So..." Here, her words still, her eyes wearing close, her fingers ball into a fist. "So I can protect myself now."  
  
She all but whispers that part.  
  
It's only because he has known her for years that he hears the subtext.  
  
 _So I won't lean on anyone again._

  
-x-

 

Hinamori doesn't--can't--trust anymore. Or rather, she tries and she fails because there is a part of her, beyond the childish naiveté and whole-hearted kindness, that knows better. That knows just what happens when she places her faith in someone else.  
  
They can betray her, hurt her, tear her apart from the seams.  
  
Aizen did that easily enough--with every lie, smile, comforting hand. It took one slash for the walls to come crumbling down, one cold smile for her carefully arranged life to fall apart.  
  
(And it easy, all too easy, for her to try to step back into the broken shambles, to try and piece it back together. To try to find something that doesn't exist.)  
  
There is a part of her that will never admit this, but she fears Hitsugaya. Just a little. Just enough that she can re-evaluate her life. He didn't mean to pierce her but that doesn't change the fact that he did.  
  
Her Shiro-chan had nearly killed her and what the mind forgives the body doesn't easily forget. Sometimes when his hand rests on his sword, she feels a shiver rise up her spine, an urge to run away.  
  
That isn't what scares her the most, though. It is this urge to depend on him, to let him protect her, that does her in. She already knows what happens when one does that.  
  
Already knows that no matter how pure his intentions are, she will never let herself get into that position again.   
  
Because once that protection is gone, it's all over.

  
-x-

It's twilight when they have their first proper conversation. She's standing in the courtyard, staring at the sky, her fingers calloused and bleeding.   
  
He doesn't comment on her skinned elbows or bruised cheek.   
  
"Hitsugaya-kun..." Some habits are harder to lose than others. She tries once more to put that line between them, to separate herself from his offer. "Hitsuga--"  
  
"Nice sunset," he interrupts.  
  
"It is." She glances at him, takes in his collected look, his piercing eyes.   
  
Perhaps there are some walls she can't break. "I was thinking, it's been a while since we've eaten watermelons together." A tentative step.  
  
He looks at her finally, slow, critical, judging. "As long as you're cutting."  
  
"Of course." A smile and while it isn't as bright and open as it used to be, it's not weak or fragile either. It is Momo's smile, in healing and changing, and something in him relaxes.   
  
"You're probably going to have to eat more if you want to get any bigger," he continues, turning around.  
  
"Hey!"   
  
(not as indignant, but the flame is still there, and maybe, just maybe, they'll be okay)

 


End file.
